The Upper Hand
by eponnia
Summary: Modern AU. The last thing Moses expected at the party to celebrate Rameses' promotion in the family company was to catch a government agent. [Moses/Tzipporah one-shot with potential to become two]


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Because who doesn't want a modern Moses/Tzipporah fic including government agents? Is it Mipporah? Tzipposes? No idea. **

**(But I kind of like Mipporah)**

**This is my first PoE fic. I hope you enjoy!**

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"Congratulations again, Moses!"

"Oh, thank you, really," the twenty-five-year-old answered, rubbing the back of his neck, "but your praise should be directed to Rameses. He was the one who was promoted."

"Well, did he talk your father into giving you a raise, didn't he?" the woman said.

"Yes, yes, he did. If you would excuse me…" Moses gave her a polite smile and moved past her, making his way to the bar through the crowd packed into the banquet room of his father's mansion in Cairo. Nothing but the best for Rameses, new manager of Morning Star Architecture, one of the largest and most successful companies in all of Egypt.

"What can I get you, sir?" asked the tuxedo-clad employee standing behind the bar as Moses approached the counter.

"Wine, please."

"White or red?"

"Red." He tugged at the tie around his neck, noticing the employee, a tall, thin bearded man in his early thirties, shift uncomfortably.

"Um, sir, at the moment, we only have white," the employee said, "but I've sent someone to get red."

"That's fine. I can wait," Moses replied absentmindedly, looking down as his iPhone rang in his pocket. Answering the call, he turned his back on the bar. "Rameses?"

"Where are you?" his elder brother demanded in a lighthearted tone, words slurring ever so slightly. Only someone close to Rameses would notice the effects of the wine had the twenty-nine-year-old, but Moses prided himself on being perceptive. "This party is in your honor, too! Come on, Moses!"

"Hang on, let me get a drink and I'll find you." He smirked. "Don't have too much fun without me, Rameses."

"Never!"

Moses lowered his iPhone, turning back to the employee. "You know what, I'll just take the white–"

As he did spoke, there was a gasp, and suddenly he heard the crash of glass shattering.

A woman with curly brown hair, dressed in the attire Moses recognized as the caterers serving the event, bent down to pick up the thankfully still-intact wine bottle that rolled across the hardwood floor, setting down her now empty tray. "I am so, _so_ sorry," she said, beginning to pick up pieces of broken glass with her bare hands as the employee who had been behind the bar joined her. The woman then looked up, her brown eyes meeting Moses' own, and a warm smile lit up her face.

"It's you."

Moses looked at her in confusion as she stood, brushing a curl out of her earnest eyes. "You're my brother. Our brother," she added, gesturing to the employee who had at the bar.

"Your brother? You must be confusing me with someone else-"

"Please excuse her, sir," said the man who had been at the bar, and now he moved between Moses and the curly-haired woman. "My sister- She's, um, very tired. Working all day. Long shift. She's just a bit... confused, sir-"

"I am not confused, Aaron!" the woman said firmly, moving around him to face Moses again. "You are our brother!"

"I don't know if this is some sort of joke," Moses said, eyeing the crowd watching their exchange with interest, "but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Please pardon her," the man called Aaron said to Moses before turning back to the curly-haired woman. "Don't bother him, Miriam-"

"With what? The truth?" Miriam cut in. "That our mother Yocheved left him when he was only a few days old on the riverbank behind the adoption agency because she would have been arrested or shot by the police if she came on the main street? How I watched your adoptive parents take you away?"

"You have a very elaborate story," Moses interrupted, "but it's going too far. If you'll excuse me-"

"You were born of our mother Yocheved!"

"Fine!" Moses whirled to face her, clenching his fists at his sides. "Yes, I'm adopted. But that does not mean I'm related to opportunists like you." He knew his words were cruel, but if they stopped this woman from making him doubt his entire life, he would be as harsh as needed. He turned and began to make his way through the crowd, back to Aaron and Miriam, but her voice rose over the music and the party.

"If you want the truth, ask the man you thought was your father!"

He looked back in shock to see Aaron pulling Miriam away, but she never broke eye contact with him even as her brother led her through the crowd in the opposite direction.

Moses felt the stares of the partygoers around him, and suddenly felt as if he were suffocating. Turning sharply to look for a corner of the room to catch his breath, he found himself face to face with another server and ended up with more broken wine glasses at his feet and red wine down his tuxedo.

He ignored the server's apologies and began pushing his way through the crowd, heading for the stairs and suddenly grateful that the party had been held at his family home instead of some hotel where he wouldn't be able to escape from the crowd. Moses all but ran up the staircase and found the hall leading to his childhood bedroom mercifully empty. He knew he could have taken his car back to his apartment, but his old bedroom was closer and just as peaceful.

At least it had been.

Tugging off his tie, Moses opened the door and was punched in the face.

Caught by surprise, he took a step back only to hear the door shut behind him and the ominous click of a gun. He then looked up to a woman aiming a pistol at him.

"Don't. Move."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They stared at each other for a moment, the only sound in the room Moses' breathing; he had always sounded as if he had just run a marathon when stressed. _Maybe I have asthma_, he wondered. _Focus! There is a woman with a gun who just attacked you in your room. Now is not the time to think about potential asthma!_

The woman, about his age, had strong but appealing features and dark hair pulled back, wearing a tight, fairly short black dress and low heels. Moses realized one of them would have to do something or they would look at each other all night.

"What are you doing here?" he began.

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted in a low, harsh tone.

"I'm not the one holding the gun," he countered, immediately cursing himself for saying something so stupid. _You basically just told her to use it, you idiot._

"Why are you in here?" she demanded in that low, throaty voice.

"I live here. Used to. This is– was my room," he answered, moving his gaze from the gun to her face for a brief moment. She didn't look nervous, which means she wouldn't shoot him out of reflex if a car alarm went off outside or something else startled her, but a calculating expression was just as dangerous.

"You're Moses. Seti's adopted son," she said, eyes widening ever so slightly.

"I would ask how you know even that, but I'd like to instead request that you lower your gun," he said as smoothly as he could. Rameses was better at talking up women. Granted, the women Rameses flirted with didn't carry guns. Probably.

"Give me one reason why I should."

"Because I'm not going to hurt you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. I'm sure this is a misunderstanding. I don't know why or how you got into my room, but can't we just talk about this without there being a gun involved?" Moses cleared his throat. "Well, I've answered your questions. How about you answer mine?"

"Not likely."

He ignored her answer. "What could you possibly need out of my room? The last time I lived in here was… a long time ago. The point is, there's nothing of value here."

"I'm not here for _money_," she replied curtly, treating the word as if it was a curse. "Though you and your family could definitely spare some."

"So my room wasn't your target, then?" She did not reply, and he continued. "You're the one with the gun. If you do want money–"

"I'm not a common thief doing this for _money_!"

"I didn't peg you as a common thief," Moses conceded. "But if you're not here for money, what is it? What, are you a government agent or something?"

"As if I would tell _you_–" she began.

Laughter echoed in the hallway outside. Her gaze darted to the door and back to him, obviously conflicted. The decision was made for her as they heard Rameses' voice through the door of Moses' room.

"Hey, Moses, are you in here?"

He turned and caught the impact of the opening door with his shoulder, stopping it from moving any further as he did his best to face an almost drunk Rameses casually in the hall. Moses leaned against the doorframe, using his body to block his brother's view of the interior of the room and its other occupant.

"Yes?"

"Why have you been? I've been waiting for you, Mo!" Rameses said, not noticing his incorrect grammar but very intentionally using the nickname Moses hated, clearly intending to get a reaction from his younger brother.

"I was going to change," Moses replied, wondering if the woman behind him was about to shoot him or was hiding somewhere in his room.

"Well, hurry, Mo, because Nefertari wants to go out and you should come with us."

"Just give me a minute, okay?"

"Wait, do you have someone in your room? Is that why you're standing so weird?"

"I'm not standing weird-"

"You wouldn't even let me in. You do have a girl in there!"

Moses knew the smart thing to do, the legally correct thing to do, was to at the very least tell Rameses that someone had just held him at gunpoint, someone who had probably broken into the mansion, and, by her attitude, was not on the guest list.

Then again, he wasn't known for doing the smart thing.

"No, I don't," Moses insisted. "Look, I'll go out with you and Nefertari. Just give me a minute to change, okay?" He managed to shut the door as Rameses said something about meeting him out by his car. As he heard his brother walk away down the hall, Moses turned to find the woman.

He was greeted only by his empty room and a makeshift sheet-rope hanging out of his open window.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: There will be _might_ one more chapter to **_**The Upper Hand**_**, but I don't know if it will ever make it's way to FFN, as I am having trouble writing it.**** Nevertheless, thanks for reading!**


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